


An Experiment in the Perfect Mating Match.

by MeanwhileMelody



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol may be involved, Bad Decisions, Derek is In Love, Fluff, Fuzzy and warm, Husbands, M/M, Marriage, Mating marriage comes later, Vegas, wedding fic, wink wonk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeanwhileMelody/pseuds/MeanwhileMelody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rings are on fingers. Intentions are declared. What comes after the proposal? The hell of preparing for a wedding. Do you want coral napkins on the table, sirs? The napkins are fucking pink. Derek can't take another second of it. Stiles is ready to break off the marriage to escape it. The solution? Vegas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Experiment in the Perfect Mating Match.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silvermoondancing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvermoondancing/gifts).



Have you ever tried to distinguish a coral napkin from one colored cerise? Here's a hint. They're both pink. One's light, and one's dark, but they are both, pink. Because apparently, getting married to a man wasn't gay enough. No. Their wedding had to be festooned in pink. Derek was genuinely wondering when Lydia would break out the rainbow banner. 

Lydia, damn her. The moment they had announced they were engaged, bright with smile, bathing in the affections of their friends- she'd latched onto the opportunity like a leech. They hadn't even asked her to plan their wedding, she had simply slapped them in the face with pink napkins, 'fashionable' suits that had ruffles in places that should only be ruffled if one was in the seventeenth century. And there was no going back. Derek wasn't afraid of Lydia, per say, but God knew the woman would destroy him to get what she wanted. And apparently, she wanted a wedding with pink napkins and ruffled suits, like Derek had just jumped off the cover of an eighties romance novel.

It was his own personal horror story. And he was stuck in it. Stuck tasting so many cakes that his tongue went numb, and he was mentally vowing to never, never, put anything sweet in his mouth again. Stuck trying and failing to identify different flowers that Lydia wanted to strew everywhere, seeing as there would be no bouquet. Stuck staring in absolute horror at the literal glitter on the invitations.

He was a bisexual man. He wasn't afraid of glitter, or color, or pink. He could wear it and still feel secure in his masculinity. However. He was a bisexual man. Not a Lisa Frank hell dream. So whatever Lydia was doing to his wedding was not for him. There was too much of it, and it was everywhere and it was overwhelming. 

He hadn't gone through it alone. Stiles had been at his side. Stuffing his cheeks with so much cake that his cheeks ballooned out to look like a chipmunks. Stiles had learned more botany than he'd ever needed, sneakily plucking petals off the flowers, and sticking them on Derek in hard to notice places, laughing when Derek shook them off, like a wet dog after a bath. Derek had kissed him afterwards, just because Stiles' eyes shone when he laughed, and he looked damn irresistible.

Lydia might have made all of this look beautiful. If it was her, flowing up the aisle clad in white, all the flowers would make sense. Make her look beautiful and ethereal. The pink would compliment her skin and her hair. The glitter would fall on her skin like small shooting stars jumping onto her, turning her into her own galaxy. But Derek and Stiles were definitely not her.

The pink made her laugh. Stiles couldn't flow up anything if he tried. He was far too awkward and flailing to do that. Flowers with too strong a scent made Derek sneeze, the fragrance obscuring every other scent in the room and confusing him. The glitter on the invitations rubbed off on their hands and made them look a lot like Kindergarteners when their teacher stepped out for a brief moment and returned to find the room sparkling.

It was a nice wedding she was planning. Modern. An Elegant statement. So it was very much not Stiles and Derek's wedding.

As a couple, they were wild and fiery. They bickered and snarked, fought and argued. They loved strong, and weren't afraid to show their affection. Their wedding should have been an easy affair. With few words for Derek, and a lot of food and joy for Stiles. Neither of them cared about the droning traditional ceremony. They weren't traditional themselves. They weren't this wedding.

The moment they got home, Stiles dropped into bed, burying himself in the comforter, and wrapping himself around his pillow. Curled up in a perfect little circle, so Derek could crawl into bed, and cuddle up behind him, spooning him, and putting a comforting arm around his waist. Nuzzling into his pillow, Stiles' voice was muffled when he spoke. "It's just a piece of paper and party, Derek. We don't even have to do it." Shocked, Derek stared down at his fiance. Stiles refused to look him in the eye.

"It's just so much work! And when it's over and done, we're just us, we're just the same us, just after a big declaration and a party! Why even bother. Everyone important to us already knows we're in it for good."

Derek took his arm off of Stiles. He sat up. Got to his feet. Strode around the bed. And then he grabbed Stiles, hoisted him up in his arms. Ironically, he held him bridal style, and he took off, striding towards the door. Stiles squirmed for a moment, too shocked to talk. And Derek reveled in that speechless silence, almost smug that he could take words out of Stiles' mouth, when usually the boy couldn't shut up. Unfortunately, that couldn't last for long.

"You wanna tell me where you're taking me, Big Guy? Because as much as this whole caveman thing turns me on- I can walk for myself, and you know I don't like surprises. So cut it out."

Derek didn't cut it out. He just kept walking. Out the door. To the parking lot. Shoving Stiles in the car. "Again. Asking again. What the hell, Derek. Are you-? Oh my God. You're freaking kidnapping me. This is messed up. What are you doing. "

Indeed, Derek was kidnapping his boyfriend. He shut the door over Stiles, cutting off his constant stream of questions and accusations. He got in the car himself, turned on the radio, and he just drove. Completely wordless. About two miles in, Stiles quieted down for a minute, and Derek knew that meant trouble. So he looked over his fiance, who was looking at the floor, and those big brown eyes weren't shining like they should be. 

Rectifying this might not be easy, but Derek started it off with reaching out, and taking Stiles' hand. "I know you're confused, but this is-" Stiles cut him off, almost immediately, blurting out what was really on his mind. Stiles had never been good at filtering. When something was bothering him, he said so. 

"Do you not want to marry me anymore? Cause I said- all that?"

Breathing out in something that was more a sigh than a breath, Derek looked over at Stiles for a brief moment. Squeezed his hand. His eyes were soft, and loving. "We're getting married, Stiles. That piece of paper is important to me. Because it binds you to me." He squeezed Stiles' hand. "And I don't ever want to lose you. So I'm not going to make it easy for you to leave." It sounded selfish, even to him. But that's how it was. "And as for the party-" He brought Stiles' hand to his lips to kiss it softly, pressing his lips to every finger, the back of Stiles' hand, his palm, his wrist. 

Letting it back down, he continued. "I want to show off. I want to show everyone in the world that you chose me. That something that amazing happened to me. And I want it to make them as happy as it makes me."

Red as a tomato, Stiles nodded slowly, bobbing his head in agreement. "So what are we doing, then? If you're not just kicking me out of our place." 

"We're getting Scott."

Love could make you do strange things. Including kidnapping your best friend. And then kidnapping your boyfriend's sister. And then kidnapping your entire pack, and piling them all into the camaro, until everyone was comically squished together, like a clown car. And all of them asking questions. 

"Where are we going? Where are you taking me?"

"What's going on?"

"We should have taken the jeep. More room. Better mileage."

"I don't like this. Someone tell me what's happening, are we fleeing the country? Did Derek kill someone?"

"I resent that accusation."

They were in that car forever. Five and a half hours, to be exact. And by the time it was over, and Derek let everyone out of the car, they were rumpled, pissed off, and ready to fight. But before they could start up their racket, Derek raised a hand, and hushed them right up. "We're here for a reason. I want all of you to go buy nice clothes. On me. Stiles- buy something white." 

Narrowing his eyes at Derek, Stiles finally gave in, and grinned like it was Christmas. He'd known since he'd seen the sign saying 'Welcome to Las Vegas'. But Derek had just confirmed it. Stiles kissed him in the street for everyone to see, long and passionate. His arms around Derek tight, Derek's back bowing. They were in love, and they were about to get married. 

Too soon, Stiles sprang out of his arms,shaking his head. "You're not supposed to see me before the wedding, Sourwolf. See you soon!" And then he was off, running in the opposite direction, and Derek shook his head fondly, and went to find his own suit. 

About an hour later, Derek decided that he'd given them enough time, and called them all back via text. And sure enough, every pack member trickled back to see him, this time, in dresses and suits, looking just right. Ready for a wedding. Except for Stiles. Scott trailed up to him sheepishly and informed him that Stiles wanted to meet him at the chapel. Exasperation warred with affection as Derek herded his entire back back to a gaudy Vegas temple, declaring proudly in neon lights that it would marry anyone, despite religion, race, or creed. 

Everyone filed in slowly, sat down in the pews. And Derek had his phone out the entire time, waiting for Stiles to return his text saying that everything was ready. He was looking down so intently, that he almost missed it. But it was a flash of white that made him raise his eyes to look. And to see Stiles.

He was all in white. And he was the most beautiful sight Derek had ever seen. It made him look more pale than ever. Contrasted with that fawn brown hair. Stiles was a vision. Stunning, literally. Derek couldn't move, not for a good few moment. Stiles was halfway up the aisle before Derek had the sense to put his phone away, his fingers fumbling and fingers stumbling because his eyes were locked on his mate as he walked towards him. And when he was finally there- it was too much.

Rules dictated that one was supposed to have enough self control to wait for the big kiss at the end. Derek didn't. He lurched forward and took Stiles into his arms and kissed him, over and over and over. Stiles laughed and kissed back, and squirmed out of his arms. "Stop ruining our wedding. You're supposed to do this after we say the I Do's. Does 'You may kiss the groom' ring any bells'?"

Completely unashamed, Derek shook his head. "Your fault. Looking like that." Color flared to Stiles' cheeks. They could have gone on like that, but the Minister coughed discreetly.

He was an elderly man, with fraying hair, covered up by the black pompadour, same as his slight paunch was covered with white leather and glittering rhinestones. His face looked nothing like Elvis and his voice was too high, but he made Stiles' eyes go as bright as a supernova as he clenched his lips together to keep from overflowing with laughter. 

Somehow, he managed to keep it in, and Derek managed to keep his hands and his lips to himself. And the ceremony went smoothly. Right up until their vows. Stiles looked at Derek with panicked eyes. And the kind, elderly Elvis put a hand out and tapped Stiles' shoulder gently. "Just speak from the heart, son." So Stiles did.

"I was supposed to have three more months to do this."

That was his opening line, and Derek winced a bit with guilt, but Stiles didn't look angry at all. In fact, the only thing Derek could see in him was love. He was standing steady, his shoulders were squared and he looked absolutely beautiful. The light fell across his face in a way that empathized his jaw, and the stark white of his suit, and it hit Derek, in that moment that this was the man he was going to marry. That this was the man he was in love with, and that they'd made it. They'd gone the whole way. They were getting married.

"But now is a good a time as any." Stiles continued, turning to look at Derek directly. "I love you, Derek Hale. And I vow to always do that. I vow to be at your side, and to have your back, and more than your side and your back, I vow to protect every single part of you. I swear to fill all your silences, and give you everything I have to give. I vow that you'll never be lonely. I vow-" Stiles' voice was choking up a little. It had hit him too, that this was it. "I vow that you'll never have to search for a family of your own." His eyes were steady and firm as he stared at Derek, and he reached out to grab his hand. "Because I am right here. And I always will be. I vow to be your family. Always and forever. Through hell and through heaven. I'm yours."

It was like a punch in the gut. All the air went out of Derek, and all he could do was hang onto Stiles' hand like a lifeline. A family. Stiles knew what that meant to him. Knew he had a hole inside him aching for it. Knew that Derek wanted so badly to get back what he'd had. But he couldn't. Instead, he could heal that hole. And build up inside it. Fill it. Stiles was his family now. He brought Stiles' hand up to his cheek and held it there for a moment. And then he let it go. It was his turn.

"I vow that I'll see you, Stiles." It wasn't a good opening. But then again, Derek wasn't any good at speeches. Not good at talking, in general. He didn't quite know how to do it. How to make his words come out right. "When no one else can, I will. I'll see when you're hurt, or when you're happy. And I will never let you feel invisible. I'll take care of you, when you've run yourself ragged, taking care of everyone and everything else. I'll be the one to feed you when you're hungry. To take you to bed when you need sleep. I will always love you more than life itself. And you will always come first. You're everything. You are- You're my everything."

This time it was Stiles who broke the rules and flung himself at Derek, kissing and kissing and kissing. He wouldn't let go, even when the Minister cleared his throat again. He just hung onto Derek, like letting him go would break them. Like they had fused together, and taking Stiles off of Derek would be like tearing someone in two. The rest of the ceremony was a blur of kisses and the amused, slightly embarrassed voice of the minister slash Elvis impersonator.

Finally, the voice said, laughing: "You may kiss the Groom." And that was what made Stiles, finally, break away from Derek, making a little sound like it was painful. 

"Now you have to kiss me." He said roughly, his voice hoarse with emotion. Derek did as Stiles asked. He kissed his groom. Kissed him so hard Stiles' back was bent and bowing and Derek was kissing him right into a dip.

The catcalls and whistled finally made them stop, and they tore themselves off of each other to bathe in the congratulations of the pack, most of whom were red cheeked and embarrassed from the display the two had made. Still, it seemed the whole world was happy for the couple. Even tourists, come in to see one of the famous Vegas chapels, slapped Derek on the back and smiled widely, telling him he was a lucky man. 

Derek was. He really was.


End file.
